


Coming for Tea

by type_40_consulting_detective



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Come Eating, Crack, Crack fic for the fandom soul, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, For Science!, M/M, That's not creamer for your tea, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 03:59:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3836224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/type_40_consulting_detective/pseuds/type_40_consulting_detective
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is bored and self medicating in an unusual way. It's an experiment, John!.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming for Tea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Deaflock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deaflock/gifts).



> I'd like to blame this all on Deaflock, but it's only mostly her fault. It's not special frosting, but I hope this works. Crack for the fandom soul.

It takes John far too long to notice that something is off.

The last two weeks had been long and nearly caseless, with Sherlock deigning to take on a four rated case a few days ago to kill the boredom. John had been doing what he could, begging off pub nights and leaving his gun in storage with Mycroft, so that the wall didn’t suffer, at least. The only thing that quieted his mind was to be bent over the chair in their bedroom and buggered half out of his mind, so that had become a daily chore since the third day. Not that John didn’t enjoy Sherlock, taking him to the edge over and over before sending him crashing into pleasure that would buy them a few hours contented quiet and Sherlock consuming dinner nightly. It was, however, becoming tedious to have essentially the same sex over and over for the last ten days. He’d suggested something more intimate this round, and all but had his head bit off.

John is clearing up the flat while Sherlock sips his cream tea and gives him dirty look, as if it’s John’s fault alone that no one is dying interestingly. He’d offer to kill someone, but that would only turn Sherlock’s silent sulking in to bickering loud enough to have Mrs Hudson pounding the broom handle on the ceiling. There’s nothing for it, he’s going to have to get it up for the eleventh day in a row, and he’s doubting he has the stamina this near to 50.

“Let’s take a walk, yeah?” John’s suggesting, tossing out the empty milk bag in the bin when he spots it. Tucked under a chips wrapper from last night, as if shoved for camouflage, is a cut open condom. John’s mind goes a dozen places at once as he walks back into their bedroom and checks the bin he tossed his in, tied shut. Sure enough, it’s missing. The bedroom bin hasn’t been emptied once since this thing started, and there isn’t a single condom in it.

“Sherlock?” John asks calmly, and Sherlock’s eyes go wary. He knows what John’s found, and he’s bracing for whatever John’s reaction may be. “What experiment are we doing with my ejaculate, Sherlock Holmes?”

“I-I was simply…”

“Because I don’t recall consenting to an experiment.” John hissed, menacing in his anger. They had fought quite a bit about consent in the early days, and had hashed out a very clear set of rules for what Sherlock was and was not allowed.

“I’m not experimenting on you, and it’s not like you were saving it for anything.” Sherlock snapped.

“It’s mine, Sherlock, and my bodily fluids need my consent too.” John’s anger isn’t giving up steam, and Sherlock cracks. His first reply is a mumble, and John taps his food, waiting none too patiently for something he can understand.

 

“I’m not experimenting on it. I’m...using it to experiment. On...myself.”

“On yourself?” 

“Studies show that the consumption of ejaculate is a supportive therapy for..anxiety.”

John softens, coming over to Sherlock and stroking his hair. “It’s all fine, alright? Talk to me next time.”

“You’re very committed to safe sex.”

“I’m also exclusively yours, and I’ve been tested recently.” John rubbed his neck, and tipped his head up. “What else did these studies tell you?”

“It’s best fresh.” Sherlock’s face was hopeful, and John rubbed his thumb over Sherlock’s bottom lip.

“Finish your tea and meet me in the bedroom, then. I’m going to have a wash.”

“Double dose today then.” Sherlock chuckled, taking a sip. John looked down at the cup with a gasp of realization and whacked him with the tea towel.


End file.
